


Triangles

by Jael



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Eighties/Nineties TV FTW, Episode: s06e03 Triangle, F/M, Mostly Legends, Post-Oculus Leonard Snart, Time Jumping, Time Travel, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: After the Oculus exploded, the spark that is Leonard Snart was sent hurtling through time and space. His latest destination: The waters of the Bermuda Triangle in 1939. And a luxury liner called the Queen Anne...(A sort-of crossover between Legends of Tomorrow and The X-Files episode "Triangle." Mostly Snart POV.)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> My first major fandom, back in the day, was for "The X-Files." And one of my favorite episodes is the sixth-season episode "Triangle."
> 
> And a while back, not too long after the "Legends of Tomorrow" episode "Destiny," I thought: "What if..."
> 
> This may be a bit odd, but it was a real labor of love. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel and Pir8grl for looking it over from different angles. I really appreciate it.
> 
> I hope this is something both Legends and X-Files fans can enjoy, although I'll tell you going in that it's mostly Legends (and time-hopping Snart POV). Note: "Triangle" and "The X-Files" are on U.S. Netflix, if you're so inclined. I tried to put lots of Easter eggs in while still making sure it made sense if you've never seen the show or the episode.)

"There are no strings on me."

But there are. The ones he's tied himself. The ones other people have tied to him. Lisa. Mick. _Sara_. Even the other members of this godforsaken team. He cares. He hates it sometimes, but he _cares_.

And when the Oculus blows, sending the spark that is Leonard Snart hurtling through time and space, those strings remain.

_Something_ takes advantage of them.

* * *

He's not sure how long he's been in the water before someone on the luxury liner—the _Queen Anne-_ sees him. Long enough to be chilled clear through and exhausted, though not so exhausted he can't grab on when the life preserver, its white shape clear in the darkness, spins through the night to land a few feet away.

"Oi! Grab hold, mate!"

He does. He winds his arms around the white shape and holds on for dear life. It's unnerving as hell when it, and he, start to rise into the air, as well as dizzying, and he closes his eyes for a moment, trying to settle his stomach.

He has no idea where he is now. _When_ he is now. Who he's going to see, or how he's going to see them.

It's not the first time. He's not even sure how many times it's been, how many times he's landed in. How many times he's seen _her,_ in so many different incarnations. Sometimes the others too, but always…her.

"Hang on, mate!" With a lurch, he and the life preserver crash into and over the ship's railing, and he tumbles onto the deck and immediately scrambles to hands and knees, pausing for a second as the scene reels around him.

"Oi, give it a second there, man." The speaker moves closer. "Huh. That's not a uniform. Name?"

Slowly, things stop spinning. "Michael," he says, grasping for a name. "Michael…Lance."

"Well, there, Mikey, how the 'ell you get out here?" The first rescuer prods him with a toe, and the rescued man—one Leonard Snart—peers up at him, noting the uniform, and the British accent, and the suspicion.

"I don't remember," he says shortly. Pretending amnesia, he's found, is usually better in these cases than trying to make up details when he doesn't have a clear idea when or where he is. "Just my name. I don't _remember_."

"Huh." A considering silence. The second sailor, silent until now, moves up on his other side.

"Fellows on the other side pulled a bloke out too," he comments. "All the Jerries goin' swimming tonight?

"Pretty sure this 'un's not a Jerry. My sister has a friend…that's an American accent, that is."

"A Yank? But what's he doin' _here_?"

"That's something fer the captain, I think."

* * *

The door to the captain's quarters is closed and locked. From inside, though, comes the familiar sound of a beating being administered. The two sailors look at each other, then at Leonard.

He ignores them, making note of the name on the door plaque. Y. Harburg. Unfamiliar. He half-expected it to be…

"First Mate Hunter!"

And there it is. He turns as the sailors straighten, sighing a little as he sees the bearded face of the Time Master eyeing him from above the neat uniform.

"Hey, Rip," he says with resignation. "Don't suppose _you_ remember me?"

The man's eyes widen at the name, then narrow. One of the sailors snickers, then straightens again as the red-haired man glares at him.

"Report!" Rip's doppelganger barks at him, still watching Snart.

"Yes, sir! We found this 'un off starboard, just floatin'. American. Says he doesn't remember how he got there. And we heard they found another 'un, so we thought…"

The indistinct sound of a raised voice from within the captain's quarters. All four men look at the door. Then the sailors look at each other again. Rip…First Mate Hunter…looks back at Leonard, frowning.

"American," he says thoughtfully, his accent stronger than the crook had remembered. "No friend of the Nazis? Even if your country stays neutral…so far?"

Ah ha. Well, at least that helps pin the timeframe down. He can't resist. "I _hate_ those guys," he quips, shaking his head when the quote doesn't get a reaction. "And where's Raymond when you need him?"

Hunter frowns. "Raymond? Palmer? How do you…?" But he bites the words off with a shake of his head. "Bloody hell. As if we needed more complications." He looks at the sailors. "Back to your posts, boys. I'll take this one. And take care...there's trouble afoot."

The men look all too willing to leave. Rip watches them go, then looks back at Leonard.

"If you're part of this," he says in a low voice, "keep your head down, man. Too many players on the field. Might be a good thing, though, to have a hidden card, so..."

As another man approaches, Hunter jerks his chin at the shadows and Leonard doesn't hesitate, fading into them with alacrity.

_What do you know...Hunter actually has some sense here..._ He frowns, shivering a little in his sodden clothing. _Though it'd be nice to know what "this" is..._

The two men have a quick, whispered conference, and Hunter steps back, waving the other man toward the captain's door and, with another glance toward Leonard, heads purposefully down the hallway in the opposite direction.

The other man approaches the captain's door, though, and the man in the shadows moves closer to listen as he knocks, opens it and goes through.

"Excuse me, captain," he hears. "Sir, the Germans, sir. They've taken control of the bridge. Steering a course for their homeland."

_Shit_.

"Not on the watch of captain Yip Harburg, they're not. Lock the prisoner up in here."

Leonard takes another step backward. " _Yip_ Harburg?" he mutters to himself. "Seriously? Makes 'Rip Hunter' sound good."

So great is his indignation over that ridiculous name…and his concern over making sure neither the captain nor the mob of sailors exiting the room see him…that he nearly misses the cheerful male voice still coming from inside the room.

"It's OK! The war's over," it calls. "Let them take you to Germany. They make nice cars!"

But the door closes, cutting the other man off, and Leonard turns away, although he can't help wondering, briefly, if the cheerful man is just mad—or if he could possibly have some sort of reason to assure the captain that the war—World War II, clearly, in its earlier days given the captain and the Rip doppelganger's words-is over.

Another time-lost wanderer? He shrugs uncomfortably. He's not looking for a team-up. All he wants is to find…

But there's another man approaching now, a young man in a uniform that years of reading and documentaries give him an immediate visceral and negative reaction to.

Nazi.

"Hallo? Sind Sie da drinnen?" the newcomer calls as he rattles the door. "Hallo? Ist da jemand?"

Leonard's just trying to decide if the prospect of clean, warm clothing is enough to overcome that visceral reaction when the man actually pulls out a key and unlocks the door, slipping into the dark room.

Moments later, the clear sounds of a fight emerge, over the sound of...music? Impossible to tell who's winning, the Nazi or the man who'd been locked in, but in another moment or two, all is silence. Someone's down.

Leonard hesitates...and then against his better judgment, he goes to check things out

Another man, brown haired and maybe a trifle younger than him, pauses in the middle of taking a jacket off the unconscious man on the floor—the Nazi. The victor, evidently smarter and tougher than he looks or sounds, gives him a thorough once-over.

And Leonard knows that look. _Fed. Fuckin' fantastic._

"Hey!" the Fed blurts out. "You're not from here either, are you? Or…" A glance around him. "…uh. _Here_. 1939."

The crook blinks at him. "No," he fires back, the word startled out of him. "I'm not." Then, muttered, "Damn it." He turns aside and starts casting about the room for a change of clothes, just something dry and not so distinctly out of time.

The next room in the suite seems to be actual quarters. And... _ah_ _ha_... a closet that mostly includes uniforms, but at the back a rather nice tux. He grabs it, turning away to come face to face with the eager Fed once more.

"Are you from 1998 too?" the man asks hopefully, sticking his hand out. "Fox Mulder, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Anyone going to be looking for you? Because this is incredible and all, but I'd like to get home, and the only people who know I was sort of snooping around in the Bermuda Triangle... well, I don't know if anyone's going to listen to them..."

_Fox? What_ is _it with the names here?_ The enthusiasm reminds him of Raymond. And damned if he'd forgotten just how exhausting that can be.

"Bit later than that, actually," he says tersely, taking a step back and shutting the door in the man's face. "And no, probably not."

Captain Yip is tall, which is good, but the tux is just a bit too big. A belt helps. He regards his leather jacket with a sigh, but reluctantly drops it on the floor. It's almost certainly going to be back in the next place he lands, anyway. It's always been back before.

Time after time after time.

Yorktown 1781. Andersonville 1864. London 1940. Central City 1957. Nickel City 1977. Gotham 1989. Tōhoku 2011.

He drops in. He finds the familiar faces, caught up in the events of their time. He saves them. He moves on. He never gets more.

They never know who he is, and he wonders, at this point, if he's just superimposing the faces of the familiar, the... the cared for... over those of random strangers in need. There's always a Sara. There's often a Mick. Sometimes a Ray, a Stein, a Jax, even a Rip or Kendra. Twice, a Lisa, and once, memorably, a Barry Allen.

Punishment for his sins? Who knows. But he'd tried to resist once, and it'd only lasted as long as the first strangled scream of a Sara doppelganger as the water closed over her head...

He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

The Fed—Mulder-has taken the time to change into the Nazi uniform, but he straightens, turning the hat in his hands, when Leonard opens the door. And he's apparently completely ready to resume the conversation.

" _Later_?" he says. "Like, the future? You're from the future? When? Because do I have some questions I'd like to ask you..."

"Not happening," Leonard informs him, heading for the door again. "Could fuck the timeline. You understand."

"Yeah, but..."

"Leave it, _Fox_." Reaching the door, he pauses and nods toward the hall. "Go on. You stay with me, all they're going to do is figure out something's weird faster than they would already. And there's nothing I can do to help you."

The other man gives him a wounded look, clearly disinclined to let go of this particular bone. But at Leonard's continued glare, he eventually shrugs and steps out into the hallway, walking quickly to the left while tugging the hat onto his head.

There's one nuisance out of the way. Leonard sighs, then prepares to head in the other direction... until he hears the voices.

"He, hast du was gefunden?" the first one calls, coming from his left. "Bleib doch stehen! Hörst du nicht?"

The Fed keeps walking, then breaks into a jog. The voices gain urgency and their owners pick up the pace, running past him in pursuit of the other man. Leonard steps out into the hallway himself, turning to the right and walking briskly away. No one notices him, but the pursuit in the other direction grows louder.

"Umdrehen! Hast du was gefunden? Warten Sie Mal!" Anger, now. "Halt, stehen bleiben! Warten Sie! Maenner, kommt rueber! Wo kann er deen sein."

_Nazis..._

His steps slow. And he stops.

The other man had been a nuisance. A distraction from what he's probably here to accomplish, the people he's meant to find. But...

_Nazis_...

"Halt!" The yelling continues. "Mach Schnell! Da rechts! Da rechts! Da rechts!"

_I can't believe I'm doing this._

Leonard sighs, turns in his tracks and starts following the Fed and the Nazis, tracking them down the hall, keeping just enough distance for plausible deniability. As if that will matter.

Hallway after hallway, zigging, zagging, and he picks up the pace as the noises get farther ahead of him. He makes a sudden turn, ducks through a curtain…and then, the hallway has widened into a room, a big one, and he slows to a stop to take in the ballroom, full of people and music and, somewhere, annoyingly enthusiastic Feds who are oddly unfazed by the notion of time travel….and persistent Nazis.

He changes his pace to a casual amble as he moves through the crowd, glad for the tux that is such effective camouflage here. And as he moves, he casts about not only for the Fed and his pursuers, but anyone he recognizes, Mick, Raymond, Kendra...

_Sara_.

She's standing off to the side, on the side of the room away from the stage, apparently solitary and wearing a shimmering ice-blue dress with a considerable amount of cleavage and a white, feathery-looking stole over the top of it. Her blond hair is swept up, and her eyes are cold as she watches the ballroom, especially...

He'd like to keep watching her; hell, he'd like to stare at her forever, but he turns, tracking her gaze.

And there's Stein, the older man in a tux of his own, standing by the wall and nodding his head a little in time to the music. Jax, also in a tux and looking a bit out of place, is standing just behind him, frowning, and on the other side... there's Raymond, craning to see over the crowd to what's going on near the stage.

"Hier ist der mann, den sie vollen!"

The Fed had apparently dodged the Nazis... but instead of keeping his head down, he's been bothering a redheaded woman — and he's been noticed. The main singer points down at him imperiously, and the Germans converge. One fires a gun into the air, and a few women shriek.

_Of all the stupid…_ Leonard glances back at Sara, who's still watching the others. (Raymond has moved to stand between the other two and the hubbub, almost shielding them. And isn't that interesting.)

Oh, he knows that expression of chilly focus. This is a Sara who is pointed at a target. Is this woman part of the League? That's not a bet he'll take. But which one of them is the target, and why, he has no idea.

The Nazis have the Fed—Mulder—and they're dragging him from the room. But the man's still struggling, still yelling, more nerve than sense.

"You're all big men now, but wait until you get into Russia!" he yells as they pull him from the room. "Hope you fellas like the cold!"

_That even sounds like something Raymond would say._

He needs time to think. He needs a few minutes. He needs...

The band starts playing "Jeepers Creepers" again, and unbelievably, many of the people in the ballroom resume dancing.

He needs an excuse to do what he'd wanted to do anyway.

He strolls over to her, and she obviously marks his approach but doesn't even look at him until he's right in front of her. And then he holds out a hand.

"May I have this dance?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I use here is "I Thought About You," which was first recorded in 1939, although it's been redone many times since. The version I listened to was Benny Goodman with Mildred Bailey on vocals (although that one skips the first verse and the words are slightly different). It's on YouTube--just in case you want some background music. :)
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments!

 

**The Queen Anne, 1939**

As the Nazis drag Mulder from the room, he struggles to keep Scully—not-Scully?—in sight. And in doing so, he catches sight of the tall, blue-eyed guy in the tux, the one from the captain's quarters, holding out his hand to a blond woman.

Time traveler? Well, not from 1939, anyway.

"Hey!" he yells. "Hey, you! Black jacket! If you're from the future, you know these guys have to go down! Help me!"

* * *

His intended target doesn't even hear him. He's too busy steadily watching the Sara Lance doppelganger in front of him.

Her eyes have widened in surprise, before they narrow and regain that particularly chilly expression. He can almost see her calculating the odds he'll call unwanted attention to her if she refuses. (Nonexistent, but she can't know that.)

Finally, she gives him a tiny smile, accepting his hand (calluses on her sword hand, just the same) and allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

" _You wanna dance, Leonard?"_

" _It's the things I_ didn't _do…"_

The band slows it down just the merest bit as "Jeepers Creepers" comes to an end, and the next voice he hears causes him to start in surprise and glance over his shoulder. And, yes…yes, it is a perfect '30s-garbed version of Kendra Saunders who's standing there on the stage, singing the opening notes of a song:

" _Seems that I read, or somebody said_

" _That out of sight is out of mind_

" _Maybe that's so but I tried to go_

" _And leave you behind, what did I find?"_

His arm is around this version of Sara, and if she's not the woman he knows, not quite, he can pretend she is. It's hard not to smirk, to fall into the old habit of banter and back-and-forth, and she hasn't even spoken a word.

Somehow, they each know how the other moves.

She's smirking a little, herself, and when she speaks, he leans a little closer to hear her words.

"I don't even know your name," he hears. "But you're getting awfully familiar…"

His hand on her hip, her hand curving around his neck…

"So are you," he informs her, and sees her blink in surprise to realize that yes, yes, she is. "But…that's not even why I'm here."

Is that a flicker of disappointment? She makes a little mock moue and turns her head aside. Continuing to keep Raymond and company in sight, he knows.

_"I took a trip on the train and I thought about you_

_"I passed a shadowy lane and I thought about you_

_"Two or three cars parked under the stars_

_"A winding stream"_

"Well. Then," she tells him, "why _are_ you here?"

He leans even closer. "Sara," he breathes into her ear, feeling the muscles of her back tense immediately beneath his hand, "whoever you're targeting, don't do it."

_"_ _Moon shining down on some little town_

_"And with each beam, same old dream_

_"At every stop that we made, oh, I thought about you_

_"But when I pulled down the shade, then I really felt blue"_

Her eyes are fastened back on his, now, and it's unmistakable how much danger he's in.

But she just laughs, a light little chuckle, fake smile on her lips. "Silly," she says teasingly. "Now, whatever are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," he whispers. "Sara, I know you don't know me here. But I'm a...friend. Trust me. Don't do it. You're better. You're _more_."

And then he feels it, the tiniest, more imperceptible shift in the ship's movement. Something's happening.

Before she can pull away... or knife him... Leonard releases her, except for one hand, which he can't help raising to his lips. And she lets him.

It doesn't count as a stolen kiss, he thinks. But it's something.

"I'll be back," he tells her, dropping her cool fingers and taking a step back, two. "Please. Listen to me."

And then he turns and vanishes into the crowd.

She stares after him.

_"I peeked through the crack and looked at the track_

_"The one going back to you, and what did I do?_

_"I'll leave it to you, oh what did I do?_

_"I thought about you"_

* * *

**FBI headquarters, Washington, D.C., Nov. 16, 1998**

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Mulder's in trouble."

"Big trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's take a walk."

"OK...where are we going?"

"The walls have ears."

" _I_ have ears. Will you tell me what's going on?"

"Mulder's disappeared."

* * *

**Back to the** _**Queen Anne** _ **, Sept. 3, 1939**

Leonard stoops to pick up a fallen officer's hat from the ballroom floor as he leaves the ballroom. Not perfect camouflage, certainly not paired with a tux, but enough that a casual glance might flicker over him.

He's a few decks down, trying to figure out the way to the boiler rooms, when an approaching ruckus has him ducking behind some equipment—and shaking his head when he hears the indignant voice pitched to carry over the noise.

"I got two words for you, buddy—Pearl Harbor!"

_Are you kidding me?_ He winces at the thought of the potential timeline damage... then winces again at the fact that he did so.

After thinking a moment, he ducks his head and falls into step behind the mixed group of sailors and one Fox Mulder as Nazi soldiers herd them along.

"After Poland, Hitler's on his way to Denmark, Holland and France with a few stops in between," Mulder continues blithely. "The French all but roll over on us, the Italians seize their opportunity and the Japanese come through the back door. It's a long, bloody story. It fortunately has a happy ending."

**"** We win?"

**"** Yeah, you come out on the side of history with no small amount of help from us. Not much to apologize for over the next 50 years except for maybe the Spice Girls."

Leonard snorts at that, but they're at a new door now, and all of them are motioned through, even the extra, who pulls his hat down and moves to the edges of the room as soon as he can.

**"** Schnauze halten, verdammt noch mal! Raus mir euch! Vorwaerts, worauf wartet ihr? Mach schon! Los!"

The door is locked behind them, but they're in an engine room, a fact that makes him smile in satisfaction. Because near the engine room, there will be the boiler rooms. In the boiler rooms, there will be fire.

And when there's fire, he'll almost always find...

"...Thor's Hammer. You know what that is, mate?"

The term, however, stops him in his tracks.

Because abruptly now he knows, oh, he knows, what's been up with the Raymond and Stein doppelgangers. And who Sara is targeting.

_...don't_ _do it..._

The sailors and some of the crewmen are getting into it now, and he starts edging away again, toward the boilers, as more of the crewmen emerge to see what the chaos is about.

"Thor's Hammer isn't a weapon!" Mulder's voice rises behind him. "It's a man, a man who will help build a weapon—a bomb that'll win the war for whoever has it! … I saw him! In the ballroom."

Leonard is jogging now, dodging crewmen through the boiler rooms, scanning the light and the shadows. And suddenly, there, shoveling coal and illuminated in the light of a boiler, is the man he's been looking for. Or, at least a man who looks just the same.

"Mick!"

The big man turns to look at him, and Leonard can't keep the grin off his face, even if this isn't really Mick, isn't really the man he's known for 30 years. This is backup, this is the closest thing he has to a brother…

"The 'ell are yeh?"

Irish accent, here, a strong one to go with the "Rory" inherited from Irish immigrant ancestors. Or maybe not ancestors, at this point. He stops, drags in a breath, puts both hands out in a gesture of supplication.

"Look, I know you don't recognize me here and now," he tells Mick's doppelganger. "But I know I can count on you. This ship can't go to Germany."

A cry rises up behind them, and Leonard frowns, then clarifies, "Or Jamaica."

An incredulous frown, and then a snort of amusement. Mick turns to pitch another shovelful of coal into the boiler.

"Listen to me!" Leonard grabs the other man's battered sleeve, dancing back to avoid the swing of a fist. "If this ship goes to Germany, the Nazis—I know you hate Nazis—will get their hands on...on a weapon. One that will win the war for them. And I know you know about the war coming, because you always pay way more attention than anyone thinks."

That earns him a pause and a considering look. Mick shakes his head, then leans on his shovel.

"Look," he tells Leonard, "don't know who the 'ell yeh think I am, or why yer talkin' to _me_ 'bout this, but I'm nah hero."

"Look, I get that. I…" He throws an annoyed glance backward as the crowd around Mulder gets even more rambunctious. "I just know you won't want to let the Nazis win. Am I right?

A gleam in Mick's eyes. "Keep talkin'."

"Like that lunatic's telling them." Leonard jerks his head toward Mulder. "Turn the ship around and head back the way you came."

"They got words for doin' things like that, man. Like 'mutiny.' "

"Since when do you give a shit for rules?" He's about to retort further, but there are new voices rising, and they're not speaking English. He moves behind Mick, who glances at him and shakes his head but doesn't comment.

"Du! Der Amerikaner!" one of the Nazis calls. "Du kommst mit uns, rauf hier. Ja, mit kommen."'

They grab Mulder and start hauling him off, and even Leonard will give him some credit: he doesn't go easily.

"Turn the ship around," the Fed calls out, struggling, "or Hitler rises, Germany wins and your children will never know what freedom is!"

Once they're out the door, Leonard draws another breath and moves out into the open again.

"Melodramatic," he tells Mick, "but true. I have to go. I hope…" He hesitates. "I hope we meet again. I'm trusting you."

And then he takes off, ignoring Mick calling after him, heading for the opposite end of the ship, for the ballroom and Sara and Raymond and Jax and Stein...

Thor's Hammer.

* * *

There's no music in the ballroom now. Just a frightened silence. The passengers stare at the Nazis, who are holding Mulder near the front of the room. "Achtung!" one calls and, indeed, everyone's attention is on the scene.

Everyone but one. Now, two.

Leonard skirts around to the back, searching, searching. And there they are. Stein and Jax are in the back, in the shadows, Raymond continuing to stand in front of them, between them and the Nazis, an obdurate look on his face. But the danger he doesn't see is the one that's closest, just a few feet away, lovely and blond and deadly.

"Aufstehen. Mach schnell! Get up! Er sagte..."

**"** Wir haben einen mann an bord, einen wissenschaftler der weiss wie man eine bombe macht die den krieg gewinnin wird. Frag ihn, wer dieser mann ist."

Sara's whole attention is focused on that little group near her, not the Nazis; she's not even pretending anymore, but Raymond is too distracted to see it.

Leonard does. He sees the tiny pistol she's holding and where it's pointed, and he moves to her side, breathes into her ear, courting danger and knowing it.

"Sara," he tells her, again. "Sara, don't do it."

A muscle jumps in her jaw, but she ignores him.

Toward the front of the room, one of the Nazis translates for his superior. "There's a scientist on board who can make a bomb. Who is this man?"

"I don't _know_ ," Mulder tells him.

There's the distinct sound of a gun being cocked and much of the crowd gasps.

Sara doesn't even twitch. And she doesn't look at him. She moves a tiny bit, lining up her shot a little better. Leonard spares a glance. Raymond and Stein and Jax...they're still oblivious.

"Who contracted you to do this?" he asks her quietly. "Or is the League doing it on its own?"

Now she twitches. "How do you know..." A shake of her head. "No matter. I will do what I have to. And then I will take care of you."

Toward the front of the room: "Sag ihm, wir werden einen passagier umbringen fuer jede falsche antwort."

"You will answer the question or we will begin killing passengers," the translator says. "Which one is the scientist?"

**"** I don't know," Mulder says again.

"Schiess ihn."

A gun goes off. One of the passengers falls. Many of the rest are crying, horrified. Raymond looks shaken. Stein is talking to him, now, quickly. Jax is trying to see what's going on.

Sara, Leonard thinks, has her shot. But still, she doesn't take it.

"The Germans cannot get him," she says, as if to herself.

"Frag ihn, wie viele personen er sterben lasst," says the Nazi leader. "How many lives are you willing to sacrifice?" says his translator.

"None," Mulder tells him. But seconds later, there's another shot, more gasps and cries of terror.

The redhead, the same one Mulder had been bothering before, gets involved now. From what Leonard can tell, she gets right in the Nazi translator's face. "Stop! This man has no answers," she tells him fiercely. "You're killing innocent people to learn that he knows nothing!"

At a few words from the Nazi commander, the translator aims his gun right at her head. She glares at him. Leonard winces. The woman has nerve.

Mulder apparently can't take it, though. "I'll answer the question," he says, and then points down the first man the Nazis killed. "That man is the scientist."

An indrawn breath from Sara. Leonard leans toward her again.

"But he's not," he tells her fiercely. "I don't know if he's a distraction or a substitute or even if he thinks he's the one they're after, but he's not." He nods toward Stein. " _He_ 's the real Thor's Hammer, isn't he? And you think you have to kill him."

She looks at him now, and her eyes are distraught. "I have to," she tells him. "I have to save the future."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the kudos and comments, and to LarielRomeniel and pir8grl for reading this for me!

**A small boat near the** _**Queen Anne** _ **, 1998**

"Hey, Scully, you're not going to believe this. Get up here."

"What?"

"The sky just cleared and there it was."

"Is it the _Queen Anne_?"

"That's her."

"I don't believe it."

"Seeing is believing."

"They've got power."

"Maybe Mulder's already on board."

"Let's hope he is."

* * *

**On the Waverider, 1998, in a holding pattern above the Atlantic Ocean, not far from Bermuda**

Nate lets out a long, low whistle. "That's one big aberration."

Sara stares at the _Queen Anne_ , a piece—a very, very big piece—of 1939 that's somehow slipped through into 1998. There's power, clearly. But no life signs on the entire ship, leading to immediate "zombie apocalypse" jokes from Nate and Ray. (And shudders from Stein and Mick.)

"We need to take a look," she says, worrying her lip between her teeth. _Something's weird here. Weirder than usual._ "Ray. And... Martin. Jax. Come with me." She straightens, ignoring Nate's "Awwwww!" "Mick, keep the ship here while we take a look around. If it's really empty, it won't be long."

"What about Captain... sorry, Mr. …Hunter?" Amaya asks. "That's a British luxury liner."

"Rip's still prone to fits of time drift at the most inappropriate moments. I don't think so. With our luck, he'd decide he's the first mate or something." She shakes her head.

"Blondie, there's a small boat off the side there. Four people on it. Don't worry, pretty sure we cloaked before they saw us." Mick frowns from his seat in the captain's chair.

"Well, then we just need to keep that up."

* * *

**On the** _**Queen Anne** _ **, 1939**

"I _told_ you, this man is the scientist."

The Fed has nerve too; Leonard will give him that. He can half-hear the man mouthing off to the Nazis—yeah, that can't end well—but keeps his eyes locked on Sara's.

"By killing one of your own?" he asks quietly. "It's not the answer."

"I _have_ to."

He has no idea of her story, here. But some things, in these places he lands, always seem to be the same. This is one of them: Sara Lance, in whatever incarnation, is a hero. The one who led him to become a hero himself, for better or for worse.

"That's how a killer thinks," he tells her, "and that's not you anymore."

She stares at him a moment longer, then lets out a shaky breath, some of the tension going out of her shoulders. He dares to look; the gun isn't in her hand anymore. He lets out a breath of his own.

When he looks up again, she's looking at him with shadows in her eyes, but a smirk on her face. "OK, stranger," she says, "I don't know who you are, or how you know me, but my instincts say your intentions are good. Now, what _do_ we do?"

At the center of the action, another man, the one Mulder's redhead was with, is claiming to be the scientist—and so does she, although the man then claims she's an OSS agent protecting him.

Another decoy. And an OSS agent—is that what this Raymond is, too? Layers on layers, and only one thing for sure: it's time to leave.

"Raymond!" The man starts at the sound of his voice and looks at him with wide eyes. Leonard shakes his head. "Come on. We should get outta here."

"Who are..."

"Just listen to me, Boy Scout. We need to get all three of you out of here, find somewhere safe until the ship..." He breaks off. "...well. Until it gets where it needs to go, and that's _not_ Nazi Germany. Come on."

For some reason, the man believes him. Raymond exchanges a few quick words with Stein and Jax, then looks back at Sara and Leonard, who start leading the way across the outskirts of the ballroom, toward one of the doors.

Leonard waves the rest through, then, for some reason, turns to look back... and pauses.

The Nazis have Mulder and the redhead on their knees near the front of the ballroom, hands behind their heads. An execution pose: they're dead if no one steps in. Leonard scans the ballroom, frowning. And no one in this cowed lot is going to do that.

He sighs, then takes one step back...only to pause again. Something's...off.

The engines have stopped.

And then, with a roar, a mixed group of sailors and crewmen burst through corridors on both sides of the ballroom. They immediately set to punching Nazis, initiating a good ol' bottle-smashing, table-throwing brawl. And in the middle of them, throwing punches and smashing Nazi heads with the best of them: Mick.

The Fed and the redhead have vanished. Leonard lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Mick's come through again.

The big man turns as if he feels the eyes upon him, hesitates a moment and then gives him a curt nod. He has this. Has Leonard's back—even though he doesn't realize, doesn't know...

After a moment, Leonard nods back. And then he turns and runs after Sara and the others.

* * *

"Hey! Hey…you!" Mulder catches sight of the tall guy from the captain's quarters again as he and Scully make their way, creeping on hands and knees to avoid the battle, from the ballroom. The man ignores him, vanishing out the doorway, and Mulder lurches after him, skidding to a stop in the hall as he realizes the other has already managed to vanish in plain sight.

"What the hell?" Not-Scully has come to a halt right behind him, gazing at him with irritation.

"I…saw someone." Mulder turns slowly, frowning. "Someone I think might be able to tell me how to…get home."

"Mister, after all that, you're helping fix _this_ first." A wave of her hand indicates the ship, the Nazis, the missing scientist…everything he's managed to muck about in since he got here, slipping through time into 1939.

And she's right. He reaches out and grabs her hand, letting the mystery of the man in black go. For now. "Come on."

* * *

Leonard catches up to the others, slipping past the three men and then Sara to take the lead. "We'll lock you in the captain's quarters," he tells them. "There's a radio in there; you might be able to contact someone. At any rate, you can stay hidden for as long as possible. If you're lucky, Mi… that group will take back the ship and it'll all be fine. If you're not, well, it's not a bad place to stay hidden, and from what I've heard, the captain won't be back."

Raymond gulps audibly. "Oh. Ah. And who are…"

"Just _move_ , Boy Scout!"

They round a corner and continue… and suddenly, another man, dressed in a Nazi uniform, steps suddenly out in front of them.

Leonard comes to an abrupt halt with a startled oath, the others piling up behind him. Sara moves up beside him, her gun in her hand, steel in her eyes.

The Nazi smiles at him, and Leonard feels ice in his veins. Because it's Vandal Savage standing in front of him, the spitting image of the man he'd sworn to take down, the man he'd…well, he'd thought he was going to die…to stop.

 _Why would the Nazis take Savage?_ he thinks absently, tensing to fight _._ _He's not precisely their ideal…but I suppose they're his kind of people…_

"Und wo sind Sie fünf gehen?" the Savage doppelganger says smoothly. "Ich denke, es gibt Leute, die Sie suchen..."

He never gets to finish, because with a yell of rage, Rip Hunter, or the Rip doppelganger, hurtles out of a nearby corridor, knife in hand, and tackles the bigger man.

"Run!" he yells at them. "Run, you idiots!"

They run. Leonard grabs Sara's hand as they do so. She lets him.

* * *

**On the** _**Queen Anne** _ **, 1998**

There's someone else on the ship. Sara frowns, moving down the hallway, flashlight in one hand, bo in the other, Ray, Stein, and Jax trailing in her wake

She can hear the voices—a woman and a few men, she thinks—and hear the footsteps, but the group is always gone just before she turns a corner.

Otherwise, the _Queen Anne_ is, indeed, deserted. The hallways are lit, though dimly, and in decent repair. Truly, a ghost ship.

She's seen some odd things—aliens, even—since going on the Waverider. This is among the odder of them.

They turn a corner…and an odd shudder runs down Sara's spine. She stops and shakes her head, looking at her right hand, which is closed around the bo…but momentarily felt warm.

The others have stopped as well.

"Did you feel that?" Jax asks the group at large. "Now, that was spooky. My grandma woulda called it someone walking on your grave."

"Jax, I've had people walking on my grave. It doesn't feel like anything."

The younger man eyes her for a moment, then shakes his head. "Yeah, and that isn't creepy or anything…"

* * *

**The** _**Queen Anne** _ **, 1939**

They escort Raymond and his charges to the captain's quarters, where Jax immediately starts tinkering with the radio and Leonard ignores Raymond's questions in favor of wishing him a curt "good luck"—pausing to acknowledge Stein's quiet "thank you" before they leave the room. He uses the key he'd picked from the Fed's pocket, breaking it off in the lock, and then takes off again. Sara follows him.

When they finally emerge on the deck, Leonard casts a quick look around…and then grabs Sara's arm, pulling her back into the shadows as they see the Fed and the redhead standing there already.

"….don't go back and convince the crew of this ship to turn this ship around and head back into the devil's triangle, everything Einstein predicted will become true—except for the outcome of history," Mulder is saying, talking fast, obviously trying to persuade her of something.

The redhead is skeptical. "So, if I don't turn this ship around…?"

"In all likelihood, I won't exist … and neither will you." He considers her a long moment. "So, in case we never meet again…"

Leonard almost thinks Sara bites back a chuckle at the kiss that follows…and, standing there with her, he _knows_ she does at the swift right hook that follows it. Personally, watching her in the darkness, he has some sympathy for the man. Does the redhead have a doppelganger, back where and when he's from? Was this a chance he'd never had the nerve to take before?

His mind is so elsewhere that he nearly misses it when the Fed hurls himself off the side of the ship, landing with a splash in the ocean below. The redhead runs after him, but after throwing a life preserver overboard and scanning the dark waters for a few minutes, she turns and heads back below decks. Leonard moves slowly to the railing and scans the ocean himself. Nothing.

 _Good luck, Fox_.

"Was he right?" Sara's quiet question comes from behind him. "Is he…are you from…somewhere else?"

He considers and discards several responses, finally shrugs. "Yeah," he admits. "And he's right. The ship needs to turn around. I told…someone…in the boiler room. A man named Mick. If you find him, trust him. But whatever you do, make sure the ship turns. Take it back the way it came."

"And you?"

Almost time, he's pretty sure. "I'll be moving on." He turns to look at her…and she's standing close, so close, blue eyes gazing into his, a small frown on her lips.

 _Oh, what the hell_. "So, just in case we never meet again…" he whispers.

And he kisses her. Finally stealing the kiss he's wanted to for so very long, or at least pretending to, given that this woman isn't Sara, just looks like her, moves like her, speaks like her...

_...tastes like her..._

* * *

"Sara? Sara? Are you OK?"

In 1998, Sara Lance stops dead in her tracks on the deck of the deserted Queen Anne, all thoughts of ghost ships and mysterious intruders washed away. Ray has turned back toward her; he's saying something, but she can barely hear him.

Her hand drifts to her mouth, fingers brushing against her lips, as a rush of warmth goes through her, the scent of warm leather and fresh winter air, the taste of mint and _Leonard_...

* * *

He semi-expects a fist to the face, like the skillful right hook Mulder'd gotten from the redhead. Hell, to be honest, he semi-expects a knife to the ribs.

Instead, Sara's double kisses him back, actually deepening the kiss by bending into him, lifting her arms and curving one hand across the back of his head, the other gripping the collar of his jacket. He makes a sound of surprise; she takes advantage of it by running the tip of her tongue along his lips, past them.

He can feels the pins and needles in his limbs that mean he's going to be leaving soon, any moment now, but he ignores them, pulling her closer, losing himself, or trying to, in the feel of her mouth on his, her body in his arms, the sense of Sara...Sara...Sara...

Just as he knows he can't hang on much longer, she breaks the kiss, pulling back just a little, looking at him with something amazed in her blue eyes.

"Leonard..." she whispers.

But he's gone.

Vanished...in blue light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so you can accept that as the end, albeit a slightly mysterious (and possibly sad) one.
> 
> Or, you can go on and read the epilogue, which I posted at the same time. However, I'm warning you: The whole thing is another reference to one of my favorite TV shows from the '80s/'90s. I'll tell you what at the very end, if you don't get it, and you can comment if you really want to scream at me.
> 
> You have been warned. ;)


	4. Epilogue

When the light fades...he's standing in a bar.

There's something vaguely old-fashioned about it, and for a heartbeat, a long and breathless second, he thinks he's back in the dive in St. Roch. But no. The layout is still a little different; the jukebox is _there_ instead of there; the bar is deeper and the light is brighter…

And the place is utterly deserted.

He's still looking around when, with a sort of flicker, a man just sort of...appears...next to him, a short man with a strange, colorful device in one hand and a cigar in the other.

And maybe it's not the oddest thing he's seen since the Oculus blew, but it's close.

"Just a sec, just a sec..." The newcomer frowns as he fiddles with the device. "Come on, Ziggy...ah! There. Ha." He shakes his head, then turns his head to look at Leonard...and blinks.

"Wait a minute." The man gapes at him. "You're...not Sam. You're not Dr. Sam Beckett. Who the hell _are_ you?"

He blinks back a moment, then turns to look in the mirror behind the bar. And sees...another face. Not his own. Instead a man maybe about his age, with floppy brown hair not so unlike Palmer's, a few strands of gray at the temples. And a very Snart-like glare in his eyes.

"Oh boy."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Before I found Legends, my favorite time-travel-related TV show was Quantum Leap, which ran from 1989 to 1993.  
> A reference seemed appropriate. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This will be three chapters and a short epilogue. It's complete and I'll have it all posted within the week.


End file.
